The Little Woods (21 page)

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t think that’s true. I think if you do something really bad, like if you kill a person, there’s nothing you can do to take that back.”

Asta scratched her chin and nodded. “But what if you did something, committed an act of attrition, some kind of sacrifice to show you were truly repentant?” she asked, her voice calm and sweet, and I wondered what she could possibly be trying to tell me. It was as if the content of her speech and her tone bore no relation to each other. How on earth could she say these things to me? Anger began to well inside me.

“So,” I said, my voice breaking. “Whoever killed Iris, they’re just going to go to heaven if they’re sorry enough?”

“Cally,” Asta said, her eyes wide. “I’ve upset you. I’m so sorry. Clearly you’re not comfortable with this conversation. Let’s forget it, shall we? Why was it you came by before I dragged you into our silly epistemological debate?”

“Nothing,” I said, backing away, trying to staunch the uncomprehending tears that were choking my esophagus. “I was looking for Alex.”

I didn’t wait for her to say goodbye. I hurried out of the room and ran across the lawn, staving off the tears until I reached the safety of my bed. I sat sobbing into my hands. I felt so alone. I hated that there was never anyone there to hold me when I felt like I might shatter. Every time I put my faith in someone, they betrayed it. Asta of all people should have known how I felt. How could she say those things to me, and in front of Noel? Why would she do something like that, and do it all with a smile and a tender note to her voice? It was like she was carrying on two entirely different conversations.

I sat there feeling next to empty, my face stretched and aching from crying. Maybe some of us were different, I thought. Maybe some of us just didn’t have guardians. Maybe some of us never would. Maybe we needed to learn to be our own guardians, to take care of ourselves.

I found Jack outside the dining hall. He was talking to Drucy and Cara, but when he saw me, he came right over.

“Are you okay?” he asked, reaching out for me but then stopping himself. There were too many people around.

“Jack,” I said, the world seeming to spin around me, pressing in. “Do you have any condoms?”

His eyes grew wide, and slowly he nodded.

“Okay,” I said, my hand shaking as I brushed my hair behind my ear. “Meet me behind the theater in five minutes.”

“Cally,” he said, breathless. “Are you sure?”

I wasn’t, but I nodded anyway. I took the slow route to the theater, and when I got there, Jack was already sitting on the grass, looking up at me with a little boy’s eyes. He looked frightened and beautiful.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked again.

“Jack, I don’t want to talk, okay?” I said, and led him into the woods, just out of view.

I didn’t know what to do, so I undressed and lay down, the forest floor rough against my back, my legs shaking.

It was slow and strange, and not at all what I’d expected. He told me I was beautiful, but I didn’t want to hear that. I wanted everything to go away, to disappear, and for a little while it did.

When it was over, we dressed in silence, and then Jack sat back down on the ground. He reached out for me, but I didn’t take his hand. Instead I knelt down, picked up the empty condom wrapper, and shoved it into the pocket of my jacket. I figured I could bear half the responsibility for hiding what we’d done.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I wanted to tell him the truth, that I wasn’t okay, that I hadn’t been okay for a very long time, and that nothing, not even sex with a beautiful boy, could fix that thing inside me that was broken. But I couldn’t say that. I could see from the look in his eyes that somehow what we’d done had just broken his heart a little.

“I gotta go,” I said.

“You don’t have class yet,” he said, forcing a smile. “Can’t we hang out for a bit?”

He held out his hands again, reaching up for me, but I couldn’t take them. I backed away.

“I have something to do,” I said.

“Oh,” he said, his voice quiet, his smile falling. “Okay.”

I left him there. I didn’t look back. I don’t know how long he stayed. I didn’t see him for the rest of the day, but when I got back to my room that night, I found a single white flower on my pillow.

I WOKE UP THE NEXT
morning to Helen peering down at me.

“Yes?”

“I don’t know,” she said, clearly upset. “Your hair. I just don’t like it.”

She’d said that the night before when I’d come back to the dorm with what she called my Sex Pistols hair. It wasn’t a big deal. It was just something I needed to do. After dinner, I’d borrowed bleach and clippers from Cara Svitt, and I’d shaved most of my head, leaving only a spiky patch up front, which I’d bleached a shocking blond.

It was allowed. There were other kids at St. Bede’s with weird hair, but for some reason, Helen couldn’t handle it on me. I didn’t know why anyone would care, but people tended to freak out when you did something drastic to your appearance.
They thought you’d gone crazy, but really maybe you’d been crazy all along, and doing something like that made you feel less crazy, giddy even, in control and out of control all at the same time.

I didn’t feel like dealing with her comments, so I waited until she’d gone to the bathroom, and then I slipped on my shoes, grabbed my books, and headed out the door.

Jack was outside the dining hall, sitting on the little brick wall, reading his Genet. When he saw me, he gave me a big thumbs-up and smiled.

“You’ve gone completely mad,” he said, laughing. “I love it.”

I gripped my gritty blond tendrils. “Thanks. I’m glad you like it.”

“Of course I like it. You look like a pint-sized Sid Vicious,” he said, taking my hand and pulling me down to sit next to him on the wall. “Did you get the flower?” he asked, and I nodded.

“Are we okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I was just in a weird mood yesterday.”

“Clearly,” he said, indicating my hair. “I really do like it, Cally. It brings out your eyes.”

“Thanks,” I said, trying not to blush.

“You’re sure everything’s okay, though? You seem like something’s going on with you that you’re not telling me. Not just yesterday. Sometimes you get all quiet and look like you’re trying to figure something out. What are you thinking about when you do that?”

“Deeker,” I said, shaking my head. “Has television taught you nothing? I’m a teenage girl. I’m probably just thinking about shoes.”

“You can tell me things, you know,” he said, and I could tell from his eyes, the liquid emotion of them, that he was serious.

This was what he wanted. He wanted me to tell him how I felt, to include him in parts of me that I wasn’t comfortable sharing even with myself. Standing there, staring into his eyes, I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry, and then I wanted to kiss him. But I didn’t do either of those things. Instead I laughed.

“Let’s get some juice,” I said, and his smile seemed to drop just a little. We went into the dining hall after that and were filling up our beveled red cups with apple juice when I felt a familiar hand on my waist. I turned to find Alex, with something like disgust on his face.

“What the hell happened to your hair?” he asked, looking at me like I was some kind of complicated joke.

“Hey,” I said. “I like it.”

Alex didn’t smile. He looked disappointed. He didn’t say anything—he just stared—and then I noticed Jack was staring back at him, standing maybe a little too close.

“Do you have a problem with me, Deeker?” Alex said, squaring himself on him.

Jack straightened up, craning his neck to face Alex, and the two of them looked like Japanese fighting fish all set to rumble, but then Jack eased up and laughed. “Why would I have a problem with you, man?”

Just then Brody walked over and placed his hands on Alex’s shoulders.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, his voice hypnotically calm. “You got a second?”

Alex’s shoulders relaxed, and with one last look at Jack, he allowed himself to be led away.

Without missing a beat, Jack took my hand.

“Last one to class has ugly hair.” He laughed, then took off running.

Our race to class ran into a few detours, and we ended up being late to first period. Jack let go of my hand and put a bit of space between us before we walked in. Ms. Harlow was already lecturing on
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
. She came to a full stop when we entered, her hand pressed against the hip of her bell-bottom jeans.

“Cally!” she exclaimed, her voice cracking with spurious joy. “It is so awesome of you to come to class today. And oh, great, you brought your excellent new hair.”

I ignored her as Jack and I took our usual seats on either side of Sophie.

“You look insane,” Sophie whispered, gripping my hand. “I think I love you.”

After sports, I went down to see Alex. He was on his bed, reading Proust. He looked up and smiled, hesitant. He was dressed for hiking and had a pack leaning against his bed.

“Running away?” I asked. “Did my hair scare you off? And you’re still reading Proust? I blew through that whole thing in, like, a weekend.”

“I’m glad you came by.”

I smiled. “Seriously, though, where are you going?”

“Going on an overnight into the woods with Reilly and Brody.”

“Is that safe?” I said, trying not to sound as shocked as I felt. “I mean, considering.”

“Reilly got it okayed. We’re big guys, and we’ll have Tinker with us.”

“What are you going to do out in the woods?”

“There’s a sweat lodge back there. We’re going to work out some of our demons, then spend the night under the stars and head back at dawn. We’ll be back in time for class.”

“That sounds pretty cool, except for the Reilly part.”

“You’re delusional. Reilly’s solid.” He sighed. “Cally, we need to talk.”

“Yeah?”

“Seriously, what’s up with the hair?”

“What?” I could feel my cheeks start to burn.

“You had gorgeous hair. Why maim yourself?” He grabbed his guitar and began picking idly at the strings.

“I like it. What’s the big deal?”

“It’s just weird is all.”

I didn’t stay long after that, and as I walked back to my room, I realized I had to break up with him. He was everything a perfect guy was supposed to be, but he wasn’t my perfect guy, and I sure as hell wasn’t his perfect girl.

I’d do it the next day. I had to. It didn’t matter how beautiful he was or how much everyone loved him. It didn’t matter
that when I nestled my head into the crook of his neck, he smelled like fresh lime and mint. None of those things mattered anymore.

The next morning Helen and I got up early to quiz each other for our bio test. We went to the dining hall at six-forty-five, and in my memory I heard someone screaming, but I don’t know that it happened that way. There were people everywhere, milling around. Too many people. I was confused, trying to figure out what the strange flashing light was. It was pulsating against the side of the dining hall.

“Oh my God,” Helen gasped, and then I took in the whole scene. The flashing light was from a police car. There were cops everywhere. Something bad was happening again.

And then Freddy was there, standing right in front of me like a splotch of ruddy marmalade.

“They found something,” she said, her eyes wide. “I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s another body. Oh God, do you think someone else was killed?”

I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

“Who found it?” Helen asked, her voice shaking.

“Alex did. He and Reilly and Brody were hiking back, and Alex was way ahead of them with Tinker, and apparently Tinker darted off the trail. Alex followed and found him digging like crazy. He found something—Tinker did. It must have been a body. What else could it have been?”

That was when I noticed Alex. He was wrapped in a blanket, talking to a police officer, who was taking notes and nodding.
The officer closed his tablet and walked away just as the nurse handed Alex a steaming drink. He was shaking. I ran over to him, and he looked up at me distantly. The nurse held me back a little.

“What happened?” I almost whispered.

Helen was yelling somewhere, demanding to know what was going on. Why was she doing that?

Alex just shook his head.

“He’s had a shock,” the nurse cautioned. “I think you’d better leave.”

“No,” he said, his voice wavering. “No. I want her to stay.”

I sat down and put my arm around him. Helen was still yelling at Cryker, expletives flowing freely.

“I’m so glad I have you, Cally. Oh God,” he said, putting his head in his hands.

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

He shook his head, then wiped his eyes and tried to get himself together.

“They were out there,” he said, his voice breaking. “In the woods. Buried. I found them.”

“What was?”

“They were buried. In a gym bag. All these little bones. Tiny bones.” He bit hard into his lower lip, trying to fight back tears. “They think it’s them—the girls.”

I was cold and tingly, suddenly aware I couldn’t feel my fingertips. “What girls?” I demanded.

“The lost girls,” he said. “The ones who disappeared. Asta’s daughter, Laurel, and her friend. They said her name was Clare.”

After that everything went black.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?”
I heard Sophie say as my eyes strained to bring her into focus.

I looked around me, trying to understand where I was. White walls, paper cups, cots.

“The infirmary,” she said. “The nurse asked me to keep an eye on you while she deals with the boys.”

“Oh God,” I groaned. “I fainted, didn’t I? How embarrassing.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Cally?” she said, and sitting on the side of the cot, she put her hand on my arm. I noticed tears were welling in her eyes.